


Disappointment

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Elvhen Ascension [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Card Games, Friendship, Gen, Gossip, Laughter, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 19:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20766050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Lavellan has some curious quirks, and the party discuss them over cards.





	Disappointment

“Why does he _talk_ like that, anyway?” Sera demanded, of no one in particular, and Solas glanced up from the cards in his hand, glancing from Varric to Dorian’s respective blank faces, and then back to Sera. Cole was sitting at the table with her, his gaze unfocused. He liked to be present, he had told Solas, when people were enjoying themselves, liked to enjoy the energy of the conversation when they settled into a game of Wicked Grace, or any other card game.

“Cole is a spirit,” Solas reminded her, although his tone was not as patient as it might have been with someone else. Sera, ever intent on stupid impulsivity, in throwing out any meaning that did not appeal to her personally, grated immensely on his nerves. “His introduction to using language at all is different to yours.”

“Not _the thing_,” Sera said, wrinkling her nose, and Solas set his jaw. “The _elf_.”

“The elf,” Solas repeated darkly, wondering where precisely to begin as he looked at Sera, at her ears, her eyes. What a waste. More than a waste, a _squandrance_ – not merely as an elf, but as a _person_, so selfish, so completely…

“I believe it comes from reading more than talking,” Dorian said, setting down an ace. “He was telling me he learned very early to read from his clan’s library. You’ve had a conversation with him, Sera – he prefers to listen than to talk. It’s no wonder he has such a peculiar way of speaking.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Solas said.

Varric laughed. “Really? Our dear Inquisitor goes from talking like a noble from a century ago to talking like one of today’s commoners in the same sentence.”

“He is worried, concerned, uncertain,” Cole said quietly. “Hahrens help and never hinder, but their tales are tremendous, tantalising, just the right words in the right place, but his are clumsy, falling over themselves like kittens…”

“_What_?” Sera demanded.

“The Inquisitor’s said that to me, too,” Varric said, apparently nonplussed by Cole’s peculiar manner of expressing his and others’ feelings – it was good, Solas thought, that a dwarf could be so understanding of a creature of the Fade. If only… “He memorises stuff, passages of stories, or poems. Everything comes off like he’s quoting from a few sources at once, when he tries to tell a story himself, or even when he talks.”

“I had rather the same criticism when I began writing my first essays,” Dorian murmured. “One finds one’s own voice, with practice.”

“I think it’s weird,” Sera said. “If you’re gonna talk, just… _talk_, innit? Why worry about what loads of other people’ve said, and try to say it how they would say it, or copy what they said?”

“Have you ever noticed,” Dorian said, his lips twisting into a slight smirk, “the disappointed look that mars his handsome features, at times?”

“What, like when he sees Bull with a shirt on?” Varric asked.

Solas’ lips twitched, and he listened to Sera and Dorian laugh – Dorian’s chuckle, rich and soaked with expensive Tevinter wine; Sera’s sharp and cutting and forced, as if she’d learned to laugh without ever hearing an example.

“No,” Dorian murmured. “No, I was rather thinking… For example. That hidden cupboard in that hut last week out there in the Hinterlands, you recall? Ugly little place, all the thatch burned away even before _I_ got there, and he had to wrestle with his lockpicks to get the thing open. Didn’t you see the look on his face, Varric?”

Varric was nodding his head, grinning, and when he saw Solas’ curious look, he threw down a card, chuckling.

“So he finally cracks this damned lock, right? And I offered to do it! I offered to pick it for him! But he’s _practising_ this week, gotta get it right, and he wouldn’t let me help – whatever makes the boss happy, okay. So he gets this door open, pushes it in so he can get inside, and he’s looking so _excited_, right? He’s _finally_ cracked this lock, he’s the hero victorious! And his face, it just… _drops_. Like, all the excitement, the enthusiasm, it all comes off his face like it got slapped off, all of a sudden.

“So me and Sparkler here, we’re thinking, aw, shit, damn thing’s empty. Sucks, but it happens. Then, Inky steps aside, and lets Bull lean in to look. I say, hey, what’s with the long face?

_“He_ says, oh, it’s just gold,” Varric said, in an exaggeratedly uncaring voice, waving a hand.

“Just gold!” Dorian repeated. “There was a rather good deal of gold, but more than that, there was a rather impressive cache of weaponry, a box of uncut sapphires, even a few staves! The only thing _he_ was interested in was a box of blankets, which he handed off to some of the refugees.”

“Oh, I see,” Solas said, surprised at how easily he felt himself smile. Lavellan had that effect on him, remarkably – he was no creature of the Fade, and yet he connected so well with others, and was so thoughtful. It was comforting, to know there were as yet people like him in the world, even amongst the arrogant Dalish. “No books.”

“No books!” Dorian repeated, and laughed. “Oh, he is… _funny_.”

“He’s bonkers,” Sera muttered. “Absolutely cracked.”

“You might be right there, Buttercup,” Varric said, smiling. “But at least he’s not hungry for money or power, huh? Just the written word.”

“Does he like _your_ books, Varric?” Solas asked.

“You know,” Varric said, “I haven’t gotten up the courage to poke him about that yet. What if he hates them?”

“What if he’s a _fan_?” Dorian asked, poking Varric in the shoulder, and the two of them dissolved into laughter again.

Such solidarity here. Solas liked Varric, and Dorian, too – Dorian was infuriatingly Tevene at times, and yet at other, he could be so thoughtful, so inquisitive, so eager to understand others, and to help them. Was he becoming too attached to them? These two aside, was he becoming too attached to Lavellan himself?

“I win,” Solas said, setting down his cards, and Dorian and Varric groaned when they saw his hand. Solas let their indignant protests wash over him, and wondered if the Inquisitor was already asleep by this hour, or still wandering the halls of the keep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to hit up [my ask on Tumblr,](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask) to talk about DA in general, and definitely to recommend blogs to follow! I am open for requests (for Origins, II, and Inq).


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